Deganawida
by Upside-DownLemur
Summary: Arthur Kirkland didn't have any use for what the humans valued. He had everything he needed and had always sought to have: Land, money, and power. It was all satisfactory until he met the boy of the New World.
1. Ehnita

_Author's Note: Before anything else, I want to make it very clear that I mean absolutely no disrespect to anyone in the creation of this story. I am most definitely not of American Indian descent so I only know as much as I've found with research, but I acknowledge that not everything on the internet is true. If I do happen to say something offensive or wrong, I am so sorry and I will not be angry if somebody corrects me so please, please don't be afraid to tell me. Thanks._

_Moving on, this is a short tie-in to my American Revolution story because I really believe that America's history with the American Indians is important to remember. There is some implied violence throughout the story, but I promise that it's not gory._

_Also, I really wanted to try to capture the image of a non-English speaking Alfred, so I've tried to put Kanien'keha words and phrases into the story. All of the meanings of the words will be in the end notes of the chapters._

_Now without further ado, I hope you enjoy it!_

* * *

_"A white serpent will come to our lands and make friends with us, only to deceive us later. A red serpent will later make war against the white serpent, but an Indian boy will be given a great power."_

* * *

_August 27th, 1664_

Arthur stuck the British flag into his newly conquered soil with pride, giving Netherlands an obnoxious look.

"Well, well, well, Ned, it seems New Amsterdam is no more."

A cheer erupted from the Englishmen surrounding them as they raised their drinks and then proceeded to guzzle them down.

Ned clicked his tongue, making a sound of disapproval and uncaring. "For what reason have you kept me here, Kirkland? If you wish to sit around in your bubble of pride and victory, then I would like to leave with the rest of my men."

Arthur sneered. "And that is precisely why I want you to stay. So that you may 'sit around' in _your_ 'bubble' of shame and loss. Now what shall I call this place, hm? I think New York has a nice ring to it. What do you think, men?"

The Englishmen cheered again, raising refilled cups of alcohol. Arthur absorbed the noise like music to his ears and began to gulp his own drink down.

A soldier ran up to him right then and took his hat off humbly. "Sir England, if it is all the same to you, I-"

"What do you want?" Arthur asked irritatedly with a slight slur, throwing his mug down as if already drunk. "I'm trying to enjoy my victory."

The soldier took a step back. "A-As I mentioned earlier, my son is sick and I would like to write a letter to him and my wife to see how they are doing, so may I have-"

"No," Arthur said firmly, crossing his arms.

The man's face slackened in disbelief. "Wh- Pardon?"

"You know I don't like repeating myself, soldier. You just took part in history and you're telling me that your family is all that is on your mind? That is pathetic." He annunciated the word, spitting a bit as he did so. "Sit and celebrate my triumph with the rest of the army. Captain's orders. Your family can all die of the plague for all I care."

The soldier's face turned red with fury. "You are a self-absorbed, beetle-browed... piss-poor excuse for a man!"

The Englishmen went silent, all putting their drinks down and turning their attention to Arthur, who was about to explode like a pressure cooker. Ned watched as well, his eyes flickering with amusement.

The soldier continued. "What in bloody hell would somebody like _you_ know about family or love? You have nothing but miles of dirt and an army that praises you incessantly, and without your people you wouldn't even exist!"

Arthur's anger fizzled as he began to chuckle. "_Love?_" he said incredulously. "That is some silly human fantasy that I have no use for. And since you were so forthcoming with your opinions of me..." He leaned in close to the soldier's face. "I will reward you." He raised his head to the rest of the army then. "Hang him. On grounds of mutiny."

Ned removed the pipe from his mouth and blew out a long trail of smoke. "Hm. Cruel as always, Captain Kirkland."

Arthur snorted and grabbed the neck of the bottle of wine in front of him, gulping half of it down before throwing it to the side, effectively smashing it. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve in disgust. "What is this wibble?" he shouted, drunkenly stumbling away from his army. A bit of rest was in order.

Ned took another puff from his pipe. "You didn't seem to have a problem with that 'wibble' when you drank three bottles of it earlier."

"Shut up!" Arthur said, entering his tent.

By the time he was retching off the side of his bed for the third time that night, his mind pounding, he realized that yes, perhaps the drinking was a _bit_ excessive.

He tightened his hand into a fist and slammed it into his forehead. Getting drunk didn't usually feel this bad, so why now? That damn soldier had ruined his entire day with his blasphemous talk. Arthur didn't need all these imagined concepts of love and happiness. He had everything he wanted. Money, land, power-and there was still more of it left to take. His greed could satisfy his every wish. It was all a crystal clear philosophy.

So why was he feeling so damn foggy about it right now?

He closed his eyes, seeing a flashing red, and punched himself in the head again. He would not dwell over a dead man's words.

He never had.

"I can't believe I have to do everything by myself." He muttered the words angrily as he got to the bottom of the grassy hill, his vest waving in the breeze.

It wasn't surveying the land that pissed him off, because in all honesty it really was beautiful, but being the one who had to expend the energy involved in climbing the hills of the territory after only three hours of sleep was, in fact, not thrilling.

_And on an empty stomach, no less,_ he thought, panting with his hands on his knees. He reached into his pocket, uncertain of whether he wanted to eat his biscuit now or later, when he was even hungrier. He stared at it longingly, swallowing a mouthful of saliva as he reached with his other hand to unfold the handkerchief around the food. There was always the journey back to think of though. His shoulders sagged.

_I'll save it for later._

He pocketed the biscuit and continued to walk, amazingly at peace. The grassy terrain was easy to walk through, the sunlight warm on his back, and the crisp autumn breeze refreshing to a mind that was in desperate need for some clarity. He'd really bagged a treasure of a place this time.

"Well, what else would you expect from the marvelous Captain Kirkland?!" he announced, laughing noisily.

He stopped abruptly, realizing that everything was silent other than him, and his lips twisted in a strange fashion. A sudden annoyance overtook him as he raised his fist in the air.

"What the hell is this?! I like the quiet! I'm just dandy with how things are!" he shouted into the wind. The only response he received was the sound of leaves rustling as another gust of wind passed.

Arthur sighed. "I've really hit rock bottom, haven't I? Talking to myself like this..."

He turned around, shaking his head, and then stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of the small form barely visible above the grass. A young boy with hair that looked like it had been kissed by the sun and eyes as blue as the shore on a cloudless, sunny day. His heart thumped oddly in his chest as their eyes met, sapphires against emeralds, hesitance against astonishment.

And then he felt it.

"You're like me, aren't you?"

* * *

_Notes:_

_\- New Netherland had set up New Amsterdam in 1624 after settling in present-day Albany in 1617. The English later took this land over and gave it it's present-day name of New York._

_\- Beetle-browed: Somebody with thick eyebrows (A word made for Arthur, don't you think?)_

_\- Wibble: Bad wine_

_\- Ehnita: The word in the Mohawk language meaning "moon"_


	2. A Promise Wrapped in the Summer Breeze

Arthur wasn't entirely sure how it all happened.

One minute he had been staring at the little boy in the grass and now he was sitting at the edge of a river, watching the child attempt to catch a fish with his less-than-capable hands.

At the deep _'grr'_ of Arthur's stomach, the boy turned around and giggled, to which Arthur could only respond with a much too loud, "What are you looking at, boy?!" that immediately jerked the youngster back to his activities.

Arthur's nose twitched and he crossed his legs and arms, turning away. It was embarrassing that a mere boy offered him, the greatest captain of the seven seas, a meal, and even more embarrassing that he had to swallow his pride to take up said offer because his stomach would not let him refuse.

He looked back at the child, who was trying his best to keep hold on the squirming fish he had just caught. The blueback herring flopped around in his arms, but determined not to let it go, he ran for land and tackled it to the ground on the edge of the water to trap it with his own body.

Arthur stifled a laugh at the sight of the child picking himself off the ground, ready to be disappointed and instead being greeted by his fish laying still, awaiting him. His eyes sparkled like the river water as he picked his catch up with pride, puffing his chest out and grinning happily at Arthur, who couldn't stop the slight upturn of his lips.

Then with wobbly, stubby legs and feet that seemed to barely balance his body, the boy rushed over to Arthur, set the fish down, and then plopped down onto his bottom.

Arthur stared at the boy for some time, taking in his glowing face before trying with hesitance to communicate with him.

"Well then lad, you might as well tell me your name," he said, leaning over a little.

The boy gave him an uncomprehending look, tilting his head to the side.

Arthur sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. _I don't know what I was expecting. He may not even be old enough to know any language, let alone English._

He attempted a different approach, gesturing to himself with his hand. "My name is England," he said. He then gestured back to the boy, hoping he would catch his drift.

The boy blinked at him, then gestured to Arthur with his hand. "MynameisEngwand," he repeated in his garbled up speech.

Arthur groaned, shaking his head with sagging shoulders. "No, no. It is not Eng_wand_, or whatever just came out of your mouth. And do not separate the 'e' and 'n' from the 'g.' They go together. Listen. _England._"

He stared at the child, waiting, and sighing when he received no response. "England," he said again, gesturing to himself.

"Eng… Eng-land," the child said slowly, trying hard to get the throaty beginning syllable correct.

Arthur looked up quickly. "Ah! Good! So you can learn! Now what is your name?"

The boy clapped and squealed happily at his success, ignoring Arthur's question completely.

Arthur's eyebrows twitched. He reiterated the question again and again, getting ignored every time, and finally stood up with erupting impatience.

"Dear Lord, this is worse than trying to give the army men orders! Why do I even bother?! I am never going to see you again anyway!" he exclaimed.

He was probably wrong about the boy being the personification of the territory after all. If he was, he would have met him long ago. After all, Arthur had owned part of the New World for at least half a century now and he had never seen the child before.

The golden-haired boy stopped smiling at Arthur's snappy tone, and Arthur frowned a little at himself, sitting back down and twiddling his thumbs.

"Never mind all that, lad. How about we go find some firewood to cook this fish?" he asked, pointing to said quarry.

The boy seemed to understand and nodded, standing up and following Arthur into the thicker parts of the woods.

It didn't take long to find a good kindling, though Arthur had to admit the boy's pile was looking almost as heavy as his own, and even so the child was following with ease.

_If half my men were this strong we could have beaten France by now,_ he thought, baring a few of his teeth at the thought of that ridiculous Bonnefoy.

Arthur set the wood down by the fish, watching curiously as his young companion began work at starting a fire. It was amusing to say the least, the way he tried to hold one of the sticks but accidentally kept letting it slip out of his fingers.

"You really have no finger dexterity," Arthur remarked with a snort, sitting down next to the boy and taking the sticks from him. "Perhaps one day you will grow large enough to do this yourself," he said, getting the fire going within a couple minutes.

The golden-haired boy gave him a look of amazement, then clapped his hands and held the fish out to him. Arthur backed away a little, pushing the boy's hands back toward him.

"I will... uh, let you take care of that."

* * *

Arthur took the last bite of his fish and sat back in the grass, placing a hand over his stomach. He looked over to where the child sat, still eating, and decided that perhaps he wasn't so bad. With a little push, Arthur stood up and went to sit by the boy, earning a confused but happy look from him.

"I suppose I should thank you for feeding me. I was rather hungry, and what's a gentleman without his manners, hm?" Arthur said with a short laugh.

The boy stared at him with round eyes. "Fe-eed... ing?" he copied. Arthur watched him ponder this word, then light up as if he understood. "Fe-eed-eng-land!"

Arthur sighed, a little disappointed. "Very funny, lad. But _'ing'_ and _'eng'_ are two different sounds, and 'feeding' has nothing to do with my name." He picked up a remaining piece of the boy's meal and held it up for him to see. "Food," he said, waving the piece in his hand. He then brought the piece up to the child's mouth and let him eat it. "Feeding."

The boy copied him, holding up his last piece of fish. "Food," he said loudly, moving it toward Arthur's face. He gazed at him expectantly, and Arthur decided to humor him and ate the fish from his hand. "Feeding!" The child then announced, once again looking to Arthur for approval.

Arthur nodded with his mouth full of fish and smiled as the boy squeaked with delight and began to clap his hands. Pleased with his success, Arthur began to teach him more words, hoping he would catch on just as quickly. By the time the sun had begun to set, Arthur realized that perhaps he had gotten a little too excited and that he had accidentally wasted an entire day that was _supposed_ to be devoted to surveying land teaching a young boy English. He couldn't say he regretted it entirely though. Surveying land was a job for the other men, and besides, maybe he could coax the child into showing him whatever riches there were around.

"Glory, God, gold," the child repeated, holding up his fingers one at a time to count the words. He glanced at his hand, then looked up at Arthur. "Three."

Arthur's eyebrows raised a little as he nodded. "That's right. You are a fast learner. Did you know that?" He hummed a little to himself, trying to think of any other easy things he could teach the boy. "Ah! I know. How about a little rhyme? Would you like that? Let's see, how does it go... A was an apple pie..." Arthur stopped, pursing his lips as he tried to remember. "B bit it, C cut it, and D dealt it." He waited for the boy to repeat it before continuing.

"E eat it, F fought for it, G got it, H had it." He began to remember the rest. "J joined it, K kept it, L longed for it, M mourned for it. N nodded at it, O opened it, P peeped in it, Q quartered it. R ran for it, S stole it, T took it, and V viewed it. W wanted it, X, Y, Z, and ampersand, all wished for a piece in hand."

The boy tottered where he sat, folding his bottom lip over his chin as he processed this. "England?" he asked then, looking up.

"Hm?" Arthur responded, tilting his head towards the child attentively.

"Apple pie?" he repeated questioningly.

"Oh." Arthur scratched his head, unsure how to explain something like that. "Uh, food," he said, feeling somewhat silly engaging in such a simple minded conversation.

"Good food? Bad food?"

"Good food," Arthur clarified.

"Good."

"Perhaps someday you can try some." Arthur frowned. "Calling you 'you' gets rather tiresome. Since you do not have a name, I will give you one," he decided.

"Name?" The boy tilted his head. He pointed to Arthur. "England?"

Arthur nodded. "Correct."

The boy, understanding, pointed to himself and declared with pride, "Ho-sa-gowwa."

That was when Arthur became confused. "Excuse me?"

"Ho-sa-gowwa," he said, then raised a finger for each word he said thereafter. "Dichali. Elan. Maska. Paco."

Arthur shook his head, ignoring what the golden-haired child had said. "How about Alfred? I think that name would suit you rather well. You remind me somewhat of that old king."

The child looked at Arthur for a long moment, then clapped his hands in acceptance. "Alfred," he said with a smile. He pointed to himself, "Alfred," then pointed to Arthur. "England."

Arthur let out a breath and stood up, his muscles popping a little as he did so. "Yes, yes, we know each other's names. Very good. Now that that's settled, I believe it's high time I head back to the camp. Those men won't do a thing unless I tell them to."

As Arthur turned to leave, Alfred reached up and grabbed his pant leg, tugging at it. "A was an apple pie..." he said quietly, looking up at Arthur with soft blue eyes that were beginning to fill up with water.

Arthur stopped. "What?"

Alfred continued. "B bit it, C cut it, and D dealt it. E eat it, F fought for it, G got it, H had it. J joined it, K kept it, L longed for it, M mourned for it. N nodded at it, O opened it, P peeped in it, Q quartered it. R ran for it, S stole it, T took it, and V viewed it. W wanted it, X, Y, Z, and ampersand, all wished for a piece in hand." He stared up at Arthur. "Right, England?"

Arthur looked back at him, dumbfounded. "Yes..." Then he understood the child's meaning. "You... want me to come back and teach you more? Is that it?"

Alfred nodded.

Arthur thought about it a moment. "... All right. I suppose that's fine. As long as you feed me again," he joked.

Alfred tightened his grip on the pant leg while nodding fiercely. "Food."

Arthur smiled a little and put a hand on Alfred's head. "It's a promise then."

"Promise?" Alfred stared up at him.

"Right, a promise."

Alfred slowly loosened his grip, allowing Arthur to walk away.

By the time Arthur had arrived back at the camp, the men were off their rockers. A pair of particularly drunken men were fiddling with a musket.

"She is a beauty!"

"She sure is. I'm going to call her Edris."

"Ohoho, once you name it it means you're attached for good."

"That's no news to me, bud."

Arthur passed the two drunkards with mild irritation at their useless activities, sounding a _'tch'_ of disapproval before entering his cabin.

* * *

_Notes:_

_\- The blueback herring is one of the only common safe to eat fish in the Hudson River, which is where Alfred and Arthur are._

_\- "Glory, God, and gold": A common phrase among the first settlers in America, showing clearly what they sought to do._

_\- The Apple Pie ABC is an English nursery rhyme that dates back to the mid 17th century, though the earliest printed versions are from 1671 and the early 18th century. There are no lines for the letters I or U because at that time J was used for I and V for U._

_\- Ho-sa-gowwa is an Iroquoian name meaning "handsome boy." Dichali, Elan, Maska, and Paco are other American Indian names meaning "speaks a lot," "friendly," "strong," and "eagle." Alfred has many different names since not all of the American Indian tribes speak the same language and interact with him the same way. Ho-so-gawwa would be his main name though since he lives primarily with the Iroquois in this story._

_\- The king Arthur is referring to when he names Alfred is Alfred the Great, King of Wessex from 871 to 899. Wessex was an Anglo-Saxon kingdom in southern Great Britain begun in 519 and lasting until the early 10th century when a unified English state arose._


	3. Author's Note

_Hi, everyone! I'm really very sorry that I haven't updated in a couple months. It will be a few more weeks before I can start updating again regularly. Thank you for waiting patiently for me over the last few months and I hope you continue to enjoy the story!_


End file.
